The True Meaning of 'Awesome'

No, these photos are NOT awesome. They might be very good, or so-so, but they are only photos.
Awesome was the reality that they managed to capture. I guarantee that they are a very close likeness to what I actually saw.
These skies are something bigger, more powerful than us. Maybe we have so much knowledge, control and power over our environment these days that we don't need awesome anymore, as we don't feel awe.
Well, I do, sometimes. So I'll only use 'awesome' when it is accurate to describe what I feel for something that is greater than my understanding and more powerful than I am, so that I feel respect mixed with perhaps a little fear.

Yesterday was truly the worst. It felt all day like being thrown off an express train thatyou hadbeen travelling on for weeks. Leonor in hospital for a second day, no movement, the news & prognosis all bad. Somehow she had developed diabetes in the past few days; the lymphoma was happily roaming through her, unstoppable, eating the remaining good cells like it was Pacman, as voracious as it is ferocious. I was broken last night, utterly broken, the emotions raw and bleeding.
This evening, we went to visit again. Miracles were inexplicably were waiting for us. Small ones, but sufficient. She knew we were there and with effort, from her far away distance, she showed she knew. She moved her arm to reach for Ana's hand, she responded primitively to her voice, a questions. Each time, her small sounds were recognised as the words she was trying to say.
For me, the best was the last. I bent close to her face, like I have every night when it is time to leave. As always, I said in English, "Night night", which she would always return, although every night since last Friday, weaker, fainter, but unmistakeably the English words.
Tonight, from her sleep, she responded immediately with sound, groaning the vowel-sound only. I knew it, but couldn't believe it. I kissed her, and told her I knew she could hear me. I stood up for a few seconds, then repeated the whole process. This time she responded a little louder, a little clearer. Her friend heard it also.I left her with a huge smile and told Ana, who had been waiting outside.
The feeling from this is immensely positive, an inspiration to us all. We know she isn't coming back. Maybe it won't happen again. Maybe she will be able to open her eyes a little tomorrow, or on Sunday. Who knows? What we know is that this was a great victory for us and for Leonor. Because it is like shouting at the lymphoma, the devil-beast inside her that it can't have it all its own way. She is still fighting and it feels like we have taken some time back from that beast. It happened and that it did, miraculously, is awesome!